


Control

by Deannie



Category: The Real Ghostbusters
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-06
Updated: 2014-07-06
Packaged: 2018-02-07 17:31:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,285
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1907700
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Deannie/pseuds/Deannie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>His lover had done his job well tonight--he doubted he'd even be able to writhe when the time came.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Control

Velvet ropes, blushingly given months before, tied his hands, securing them above his head just tightly enough to excite.

He'd have preferred handcuffs, but he couldn't tell his lover that. He wouldn't understand.

More ropes bound his ankles, laying him out for his lover's approval.

That man stood above him now, fully dressed, asserting his control.

"Close your eyes."

His eyes stayed defiantly open, taking in every inch of gray twill and salmon silk.

His lover's voice grew harsh, loud and sharp. "Close them!" The power in that command was doing things to his insides... 

The eyes closed, and all he felt was the bed beneath him. That, and the delicious pressure of tightly knotted ropes. His lover had done his job well tonight--he doubted he'd even be able to writhe when the time came.

And the time, if fate was kind and his lover willing, would be a very long time coming.

A soft swish of silk and twill in the darkness of his eyelids... A brief pause... The pressure of a second body on the bed caused him to twitch, just slightly.

"I told you not to move," came that harsh, sexy bass. "If you persist, I could leave you here."

Leave him here. Leave him trussed and naked and hopelessly vulnerable. His cock hardened at the thought.

"You're impatient. That may have to be corrected."

Yes. Yes, correction. Forceful, dangerous.... Correction. He held his breath as he heard the crush of fabric. His lover leaning down. Farther. Farther. A quick nip at his inner thigh had him gasping, fighting to control himself. If he moved...

"Better." A velvety commendation that sent shivers down his spine. In reward for his control, another nip followed, harder than the last. He didn't so much as tense. "Much better."

It seemed centuries before warm hands descended on him, sliding maddeningly down his sides. They didn't tickle--they never tickled anymore. That particular sin had been corrected ages ago. Now it was just a rough, arousing pleasure. The long fingers skated over his nipples, one at a time, bringing them to the proper tight nubs. From his throat to the fur of his crotch and back again, three times. Slow and sensuous, just enough pressure to sting slightly as the fingers traced their proscribed lines. Procedure. Necessary. When the ritual was followed abruptly by silence and a loss of contact, he whimpered slightly, and caught himself.

Too late.

"I thought we had dealt with that unfortunate impulse." The sound of different silk, a silk his mouth knew only too well, and those hands were lifting his head without gentleness, tying the gag tightly so that it bit into the corners of his mouth. He almost shuddered then, but knew he must take the correction unmoving, or face the consequences.

"Now." Dark chocolate in the voice. "We'll begin again."

Silence. Silk and twill. One soft nip and he froze. A bite and he grew harder. He could feel that warm soft breath on his cock now, and he strained against his own muscles. Oh God, don't move. Don't move, don't breathe...

"You've been very... recalcitrant this evening. I'm not entirely sure you deserve this." Another bite, nearly hard enough to draw blood, close enough to his crotch to make him want to beg. But that had been corrected as well. The remembrance of it made him tingle.

"Will you behave?"

Permission. He nodded meekly, hearing the soft chuckle that it brought him.

"Silence?"

Again, a nod.

"Very well."

And the world dissolved. Without sight, without movement, without voice, he centered all his being on the tongue that circled the head of his cock. Around and around, destroying his mind and causing the well-loved rise of static in his ears. The lips came next. Full, rich lips that tasted red against his closed eyelids, lips that ran down halfway to his base and up again with aching slowness.

Now a hand, two fingers only, rubbing lightly across his sack, leaving fire and heat in their wake. Back and forth twice, that was the pattern. Back and forth and back and forth and--

He had to bite the silk hard to keep from screaming as the mouth defied the ritual, fucking itself with his cock. This wasn't the game. This was something rougher, something... different. He could stop it now. Even through the gag, their word would be understood. It could be stopped.

But he didn't want that. God, just the feel of that mouth, sucking and thrusting--he could almost see the face behind it, tight with concentration as his lover meted out the lesson. And damn, but he yearned for it. Focusing on the feel of the silk biting sweetly into his mouth, he struggled to breathe. He had to control himself. He had to obey. But oh God, that mouth!

The somehow alien rhythm grew more intense, a light rake of teeth denying his control. He whimpered softly. Not softly enough, and he allowed himself a moan as the mouth withdrew.

"Control."

One word. His correction. The body that had joined him on the mattress withdrew, leaving him open to the cool air, raising gooseflesh on his arms, his legs...

Silence. Dark, painful, delicious silence. His lover seemed barely to breathe, somewhere in the darkness beyond him, though he himself was sucking in air by the lungful, trying to regain control. That was the lesson in this new game. That was why he must be corrected. Control was key, and he had lost his. After an agonizing eon, he finally relaxed, feeling the ropes bite all the more as he sagged against the sheets.

"Now. We'll begin again."

From the beginning. Resetting the ritual in a way they had never done before. By the time the bite came once more, he was praying for blood, and he tightened every muscle in his body as that tongue began its circles.

Patterns. Circles, circles, circles. Down and up... Back and forth and back and forth and--

And again, the mouth began its painful, different movement. Harsher still this time, taking, devouring. So much harder than it had ever been before. Painful. Dangerous. He felt himself hover on the brink and snatched himself back ruthlessly. If this was about controlling himself, he'd show that he could do it. He'd been corrected a thousand times before, but he'd also known the wonder of reward.

The mouth retreated finally, leaving him hard and unsatisfied, but he mastered himself, showing the restraint that was necessary. A pleased growl met his accomplishment in the darkness, and he allowed himself to breathe as one warm hand reached down and unfastened first one leg, then the other.

"This is much better." Yes, yes, oh God, *so* much better. He held himself carefully, letting his lover move him as he saw fit. The body left the bed and he didn't so much as sigh. Control. Master the control...

"I believe in rewarding good behavior, you know?" Yes. A sliding sound, twill dropping to the floor. There was no sound of silk to accompany it. Something slick. A nearly-heard shudder from the world that surrounded the bed, his classroom. "And I believe in the reward fitting the deed."

His legs were lifted, his hips sliding onto bare flesh, the feel of silk against the backs of his thighs. He relaxed, lying limp and tied and at his lover's mercy as his thighs slid across the silk. He longed to moan his pleasure, to beg for his own release, but he didn't know the rules of this new game, and he shuddered inwardly in anticipation of a wrong step.

His lover's mercy was lacking in the revised world, it seemed. No preparation, no warning, just a hard, blessedly familiar pain as his lover slid into him fully. There was a pause, and he didn't dare to respond. His lover nipped lightly at his leg. Another reward.

And then the rhythm began. Long, strong thrusts at first, growing shorter and harder for a maddening time before an unexpected stroke hit his prostate. He bit into the silk, tasting the bitterness of the dye. But he did not utter a sound.

"Good." Another harder thrust against that center, one he could barely resist, as it sent a bolt of lightning to his brain and made his lover's words a blur. "Very good. Perhaps you do deserve this after all."

Praise. Allowance. The sharply increased tempos of the thrusts. Hard and deep and long and he could feel his own cock grower harder. His lover groaned as that shaft drove into him, and he knew the precise moment when he had permission. A slight whimper on his lover's part--a time-worn signal they had never agreed on in words. He prayed it was the same now, and nearly came when he realized it might not be. The punishment...

Giving up the task of understanding, he strained painfully against the velvet ropes that bound him, let his legs tense hard where they ran up his lover's body. His own cock begged and he tried to reach for it, caught up by the ropes that cut so deeply now that he could feel neither wrists nor hands, but only the throbbing of his arms and the pain in his ass and the screaming of his cock.

His lover cried out once, thrusting into him and coming hard enough that he nearly came himself. But he didn't--he couldn't. If he lost control now, the correction could well kill him, and the image of being left here, unsatisfied, gave him the strength to hold out. He braced his legs, all but holding his partner up as the other man sagged against him in exhaustion. In the darkness beyond his lids, he could hear the harsh sobbing breaths, so like his own. He wanted to open his eyes; wanted to see that face slack with release. But again, there might be punishment for that. He didn't know for sure, and the ignorance did its job of keeping him hard.

After a long moment, he felt the withdrawal, his body aching at the loss much more than it had at the joining. His legs were laid down carefully, and he knew his lover would be coming soon to free him from his other bonds.

Except that he never did. Apparently, that too had changed.

Silence reigned, as the sobs died down to lazy respiration, and he felt his cock begin to lose some of its throbbing intensity. The rules had changed, and he wasn't sure that he hadn't broken them with his response. There was danger there. A chance he really would be denied and abandoned. The thrill of fear that lanced through him at the thought served to harden him completely again, and he strained for the sounds of his lover returning, trying to track him over the static in his ears.

The tracking failed, for when long fingers grabbed his ankle, he jumped, then held his breath, awaiting correction. But with a sigh, his lover just tied him down again. First one leg, then the other. His cock was weeping.

"You didn't think you only had the one lesson to learn, did you?" that deep voice asked, chastising him for his lack of control. "I believe I'll have to begin the next phase of your education now."

And with that, a fierce mouth descended on him without warning, engulfing his cock in moist heat that felt like finest velvet. He let the feeling of that heat fucking itself against him center him on the task at hand. He did not move, he did not moan... He simply waited. A finger slid down toward his opening, darting in hard, the pressure of it against his prostate granting permission.

With a scream through the gag in his mouth, he came, feeling every nerve short-circuit as his lover swallowed him whole.

 

It was a long moment before he could dimly feel his lover's hands running soothingly up and down his torso. The mattress shifted as the hands moved to his hips, then down his thighs and legs, all tenderness now that the game had played itself out. His ankles were released, a kiss adorning each, where the ropes had cut in. He heard the soft pace of feet, and shuddered at the feeling of hands that reached out carefully and undid the ropes at his wrists, supporting his aching arms as they bent them down and laid his hands against his flanks. Finally, his head was lifted with infinite care and the gag was removed. Two soft, loving kisses opened his eyes.

Egon sat on the edge of the bed and gathered him to him, and Peter went willingly, moving with beautiful stiffness to let his lover lie down beside him and take him in his arms. Silk still rasped between them, and somehow, the fact that Egon had never been naked made Peter ache in a different way, his body insisting it was ready for more--though how it would prove it was another story. They shared one deep kiss before Egon tucked Peter's head comfortably under his chin and sighed.

"Egon, you changed the rules."

"Mmm-hmmm." Silk-wrapped limbs secured him to Egon’s chest, pulling him in tight.

"You're not supposed to do that," Peter groused. "Nearly gave me an aneurysm."

"Keeps things interesting."

"Well, will you tell me next time, so I can prepare?"

Egon snorted softly, already half asleep. "If I told you it wouldn't be nearly as enjoyable."

Peter remembered the thrill of this unknown game, and conceded to himself that that was probably true.

"Then... will you buy me handcuffs?"

* * *  
The End


End file.
